


Show Me

by annabagnell



Series: Right Where We Belong [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Body insecure, M/M, Mpreg, Post Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-02
Updated: 2014-05-02
Packaged: 2018-01-21 14:06:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1553093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annabagnell/pseuds/annabagnell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John feels ashamed of his post-baby belly, hiding away from Sherlock and hoping his Alpha won't notice. He does. </p><p>A continuation of Right Where We Belong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Show Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [consultinghomosexual](https://archiveofourown.org/users/consultinghomosexual/gifts), [morningstar88](https://archiveofourown.org/users/morningstar88/gifts).



> A commission from consulting-homos.tumblr.com! If you'd like to commission me, go to annabagnell.tumblr.com/commissions!

John stared wistfully into his closet. The shirts and trousers that hung there, pressed and proper, were gathering dust whilst his pregnancy clothes were wearing thin. It had been two months, give or take a few days, since he’d given birth to Gideon, and still his middle was swollen, tummy round and squishy as the swelling refused to go down. 

 

He closed the door to his closet and pulled on a pair of paternity trousers, sighing as the elastic top pulled up over his belly. A stretched jumper followed, and John did his best not to suck in his middle as he looked at his reflection in the mirror. He sighed and stuffed his mobile and bank card into his pocket before slipping on his shoes and heading to the shops, leaving Charlotte and Gideon in Sherlock’s watchful care. 

 

“Oh, congratulations! When are you due?” John’s head snapped up to look at the assuming cashier, and there it was - the straw that broke the camel’s back. 

 

“Two months ago,” he said drily, and passed his bank card over the counter as the cashier’s face drained of blood. He waved away her hurried apologies and forced a forgiving smile as he collected his bags, and tried to keep from storming out of the shop in a cloud of frustration. He walked home, even though the groceries were far heavier than he’d normally have suffered through. Maybe, if he was lucky, it’d help him lose weight. 

 

221B was warm and welcoming, and the sight and smell of his newborn son helped calm John’s nerves. Sherlock, quite obviously, could tell that something had gone wrong, and gently swapped John groceries for baby. “Hello,” John cooed to Gideon, and sank down into the sofa, cuddling his babbling son close and inhaling his scent. “I missed you while I was out.” Gideon hiccuped in response and John laughed, some of his tension draining away as Charlotte crowded up onto the sofa next to him, little fingers brushing his son’s hair gently. 

 

Sherlock looked on from the kitchen, observing his mate and children. The lines around John’s eyes were deeper, and something was off about his body language, but Sherlock couldn’t pin down just what it was. He put away the groceries as unobtrusively as possible, being as quiet as he could to keep John where he was, content on the sofa. 

 

When the last can was put away, Sherlock considered his options carefully before sidling out into the sitting room and sinking down onto the sofa next to John. He wrapped an arm loosely around John’s middle, but a frown creased his brow as John jerked away before relaxing back into his gentle hold. What - oh. 

 

Sherlock’s hand had brushed John’s stomach. 

 

He knew that the Omega was self-conscious about his belly. John had expressed his frustration at his body’s unwillingness to return to its normal status about three weeks after Gideon’s arrival, and it didn’t seem to have improved much since then. With Charlotte, John’s body had snapped back to its usual trim state within weeks, but it had been two months since Gideon was born and still John looked pregnant - and not just slightly so. If Sherlock hadn’t known better, he - like most passers-by - would have assumed that John was nearing due with another pup. 

 

Carefully, Sherlock slid his fingers beneath John’s jumper, feeling the man tense beside him, wary. He fingered the hem of the elastic waistband for a moment before slipping beneath it and caressing John’s skin lightly. John cleared his throat quietly and shifted, dislodging Sherlock’s hand and tugging his jumper back down. It must have been worse than Sherlock thought. 

 

He let the subject die wordlessly, but was inwardly determined to help John later that evening, after both the children were put to bed. They watched a film together, the four of them, and Sherlock kept his hands on John the whole time, unobtrusive but present against his side. When Charlotte finally dropped off to sleep next to John, Sherlock peeled himself off of the sofa and hauled the little girl off to bed, with John and Gideon close behind. 

 

Charlotte clung sleepily and stubbornly to Sherlock as the Alpha tried to put her to bed, and John laughed at Sherlock’s struggle from his rocker in the corner. Gideon was having one last feed before bed, which meant John’s jumper was draped over the side of the chair and his undershirt was rucked up over his belly and chest. The baby suckled slowly, grunting occasionally as a quiet request for John to shift him for a better angle. Sherlock finally managed to remove Charlotte’s clinging fingers from his own shirt and laid the toddler down in bed, tucking her in with her luvvy and kissing her warm forehead goodnight. 

 

A quiet shuffling from John’s rocker indicated that Gideon had finished his dinner, and John handed the baby over to Sherlock as he stood up. 

 

“Don’t put your jumper back on,” Sherlock said quietly as he held Gideon, and John stopped in his tracks, thrown. 

 

“Why not?” He grabbed the woolen garment defensively, holding it up against his body. 

 

“Because I don’t want you to hide from me,” Sherlock replied, leaning over to lay the baby down in his crib. 

 

“I’m not _hiding,”_ John replied, affronted. “It’s just cold. I don’t want to catch a chill.” He started to tug the jumper up over his arms, albeit more reluctantly than he would otherwise have done. 

 

“It’s not cold in here,” Sherlock said simply, tugging a blanket up over the sleeping baby and stepping back from the crib. “Please, John.” He looked over at his mate, expression carefully sympathetic. “Don’t hide from me.” 

 

“I’m _not hiding,”_ John repeated, and pulled the jumper quickly over his head. A pang of guilt shot through his chest as Sherlock came back into view, his face disappointed and crestfallen. “I’m not hiding,” he said quietly, and sucked his lower lip in, chewing on the skin. 

 

“You are,” Sherlock replied. The corner of his mouth turned down slightly, and he crossed the room to the door. John followed silently, hands stuffed in his pockets, feeling ashamed as he closed the door behind himself. 

 

“Coming to bed?” John asked, pausing and hoping that Sherlock would stop and turn around. He didn’t. 

 

“I want to help you, John,” Sherlock said, his voice carrying across the room. “But you won’t let me see you.” 

 

“I don’t want you to see me like this.” John’s voice sounded defeated and far younger than his years. Sherlock ached to hear his mate this way, and his heart clenched. He turned and strode swiftly back over to where John stood, looking far too small and sad. 

 

Sherlock’s arms encircled his mate gently, sliding around his shoulders and holding him close, bodies pressing together softly. He bent his head, lowered his mouth to John’s ear, the doctor’s hairs tickling his lips. “Why not?” he asked. “You’re beautiful.” He let his lips brush the shell of John’s ear, kissing it softly. 

 

“I am not,” John scoffed, and the hurt behind the words was too great for Sherlock to bear. One hand drifted up to cup the back of John’s head, and his wrist rested against his neck, picking up the vibrations as John spoke. “I can’t lose this weight, I look - like I’m going to have another pup. I’m still in my late pregnancy bottoms, I can’t wear anything from before-” 

 

Sherlock cut him off with a nip to John’s jaw, one that had John going weak in the knees almost against his will. “So? You know I like the way you look when you’re in pup, all round and full...” He kissed John’s jaw, and nibbled at his earlobe, and John just tipped his head back, gave Sherlock full access. 

 

“But I’m not in pup,” John protested quietly. “I’m not full of anything but water weight and swelling, it’s...I don’t like it.” He swallowed and his cheeks flushed with something akin to shame as he pictured himself in front of the mirror that morning, swollen and ugly. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Sherlock’s voice whispered in his ear. The Alpha pulled back enough to rest his cheek against John’s temple, and the rumble of his voice in his chest was somewhat comforting. “I’m sorry the weight won’t drop, but please, John, don’t hide away from me. I love you as you are, regardless of how you look. Pregnant or not, baby weight or not.” 

 

“I know you do,” John murmured, and closed his eyes tight against a rush of tears. “I’m sorry for hiding, I just - I don’t feel - I don’t feel like myself, like this.” 

 

“Will you let me show you how lovely you are, like this?” Sherlock asked gently, nuzzling his cheek against John’s. “Will you let me take you to bed?” 

 

John nodded, a tear rolling down his cheek and dampening the skin as Sherlock rubbed against it. “Yes,” he agreed at last, and turned his head to kiss Sherlock, eyes still closed. “Yes, please.” 

 

The soft evening light cast a glow through the curtains as Sherlock pulled John’s jumper slowly off his arms and over his head, and the Omega turned his head into the shadows, deliberately not looking down at his swollen middle. 

 

Sherlock gently took John’s jaw in his hand and turned his head to look up into Sherlock’s eyes. The Alpha’s eyes were bright and liquid, and a flush coloured John’s cheeks as Sherlock bent to kiss his mouth softly, deeply. John sighed into Sherlock’s mouth and reached around to grab a fistful of Sherlock’s shirt, pulling the detective’s slim body tight against his own. Sherlock responded in kind, slotting his knee between John’s thighs and pushing him back against the wall. John let out a quiet moan at the unexpected friction, and pushed against Sherlock’s leg, nipping his lower lip. 

 

“Bed,” Sherlock finally breathed, giving John one more searing kiss and drawing back so John could lead them the few short steps to the mattress. Sherlock quickly pulled off his shirt and trousers, and turned to John, who seemed reluctant to remove any more of his clothes. Sherlock stepped closer and kissed the curve of John’s neck, the bare skin next to the collar of his shirt. “Let me?” he asked, and John nodded. Sherlock’s fingers drifted down to the hem of John’s white shirt and started to push it up over his middle, going slowly as the fabric brushed against that of the maternity jeans’ elastic top. He could feel John tense against him, and stopped as the shirt began to crest the top of the tan elastic, revealing the bare skin of his upper belly and chest. “Beautiful,” he breathed, and pushed the fabric up even higher, over the mounds of his breasts and then up and off the rest of the way. 

 

He wasted no time on the maternity jeans’ elastic, pushing it down over John’s soft middle and drawing them down and off his Omega’s hips and legs. He dragged John’s pants off along with them, and as he straightened back up he took a step forward and pressed his flat middle against John’s soft one. “Lay down,” he murmured, and John complied. The Omega’s hands laced over his belly, both a residual gesture from his pregnancy and a defensive one - covering his stomach from Sherlock’s view. “Move those off,” Sherlock said with a good-natured smile, and John huffed a sigh and reluctantly unlaced his fingers, letting his hands fall to his sides. 

 

Sherlock lowered himself over John’s body, caging John’s legs with his own and propping himself on elbows with his chin resting on John’s soft belly. His chin sank in slightly, and he locked eyes with John as he tipped his head to kiss the skin there. “Beautiful,” he said, and kissed again, breathing in soft warm puffs across John’s stomach. John rolled his eyes and shook his head, but Sherlock looked at him pointedly and dipped his tongue into John’s deep navel, swirling his tongue around and drawing a gasp from an unsuspecting John. 

 

“Watch it,” John said wryly, and inhaled again when Sherlock repeated the motion. 

 

“You’re still sensitive,” Sherlock said with the hint of a wicked grin, and started lapping around the edges of John’s navel, tongue darting out and licking wet strips across each stretch mark all across John’s belly. The Omega started to laugh despite himself, and Sherlock laughed in return, licking and kissing and giggling as John’s belly jumped under his mouth and lips. His hands slid over to hold John’s sides, fingertips brushing teasingly and then deliberately tickling. John’s hands batted at Sherlock’s in a weak attempt to halt the Alpha’s ticklish advances, but Sherlock persisted, and soon John was gasping for air and laughing as he tried to wriggle away from Sherlock’s tongue and hands. 

 

“Stop it,” John wheezed, “stop it stop it _stop it Sherlock-“_

 

“Won’t,” Sherlock replied, blowing a raspberry against John’s tum and then kissing as John’s nerves sparked all around. “Too fun, too cute, missed you.” 

 

John made a strange noise low in his throat and finally reached down to grab Sherlock, pulling him up to kiss him and get those damned hands away from his belly. “I can’t _breathe,_ you fucker,” he hissed, and kissed him, chest heaving. “You were gonna give me - an aneurysm.” 

 

“Would not have,” Sherlock protested, but John kissed away his disgruntled frown and turned to lay on his side, leg slotted between Sherlock’s. “I don’t think anybody’s ever gotten an aneurysm from tickling.” 

 

“Maybe not, but I didn’t want to be the first,” John replied, grinning, and pecked the end of Sherlock’s nose with a kiss. His belly was brushing Sherlock’s between them, but for the first time in weeks John didn’t feel ashamed of it. 

 

“Let me suck you off,” Sherlock said, apropos of nothing. John blinked for a few seconds and opened his mouth, but no words came out. He tried again, but Sherlock cut him off. “Please. I don’t want to - have sex, not yet, but I want to suck you off. Please.” 

 

“I don’t think you’ve ever said ‘please’ so much in your life,” John replied, and rolled back over to lie on his back as Sherlock slid down the bed. “Maybe I should be insecure more often.” 

 

“No,” Sherlock said simply, and took John in hand. “I don’t like it when you’re insecure, because it means you’re unhappy and that I’ve neglected you. I’m trying to make up for it. Unless you don’t want me to?” he asked, cocking one eyebrow and pausing in stroking John’s hardening prick. 

 

“Definitely not what I was going for,” John replied, shifting up onto his elbows as Sherlock resumed his stroking with half a grin. 

 

“Thought not.” Sherlock drew his thumb across the head of John’s cock, and John groaned, letting his head fall back as blood pushed southward, making him grow in Sherlock’s hand. The Alpha eyed the hardening organ hungrily, and finally slid his hand down to the base and took the head of John’s prick in his mouth. 

 

John stifled a yelp with his fist, eyes rolling back in his head as Sherlock’s tongue, so clever on his stomach, demonstrated its aptitude and versatility as it swirled around John’s cock. “Jesus,” he sighed, taking a deep breath and trying to keep calm as Sherlock started to bob up and down. 

 

“Sherlock,” Sherlock replied, the word garbled and wet. John made a face and rolled his eyes. 

 

“Shut up and keep going,” he commanded, and he could feel Sherlock’s lips curl up in a smile as he resumed. 

 

It didn’t take John long to start feeling the familiar curl low in his belly, arousal sparking and making his thighs quiver as Sherlock’s hot, wet mouth surrounded him and drew him closer to orgasm. It had been ages since he’d last come, the typical post-baby dry spell combined with his body insecurity keeping him from touching himself or letting Sherlock touch him. He tried to hold off for as long as he could, breathing deeply and pulling himself back from the precipice for as long as he could manage, but he was approaching climax all too quickly. 

 

“Sherlock,” John gasped, “You’re going to make - I’m going to, oh, christ-” He dragged a hand across his eyes, face screwed up with pleasure as Sherlock gave one last hard suck, pulling John’s orgasm from a place deep inside and making the Omega choke on his breath as he pulsed and came hard into Sherlock’s mouth. 

 

Sherlock swallowed several times and let John’s orgasm drain from his body before letting John slip from his mouth, softening and wet with saliva. Sherlock dropped a kiss to John’s inner thigh before crawling back up the bed, surreptitiously wiping his mouth dry with the back of his wrist. “You came hard,” he remarked, and John had to laugh at the simplicity of the statement. 

 

“Yeah, I did,” John sighed, smiling and dragging Sherlock down with a hand cupped round the back of the detective’s neck. “Your mouth ought to be illegal. I can’t decide if I like your lips better on my cock or on my mouth, or smiling or talking - you’re a hazard.” 

 

“I’m your hazard,” Sherlock replied with a smile, curling up around John, long legs and arms wrapped around his pliant form. “Thank you for letting me see you,” he said at length, and John breathed out through his nose and nodded.

 

“Thank you for asking me to,” John responded, kissing Sherlock’s shoulder and shifting closer to his Alpha. “I needed that.” 

 

“So did I.” Sherlock reached over to grab the duvet, pushed aside during their tickle fight, and pulled it up to cover their bodies. “I’ll go up and check Gideon soon, but you need rest. Go to sleep.”

 

John thought about arguing, but decided not to look this gift horse in the mouth. He smiled and buried his face in the curve of Sherlock’s neck, and let the detective’s even breaths lull him to sleep. 

 


End file.
